


Spindleweed Tea - Scrapped Scene

by antivanfutch



Series: Spindleweed Tea [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27262663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antivanfutch/pseuds/antivanfutch
Summary: Fenris wakes up after the Fade and has a chat with Merrill.
Relationships: Fenris & Merrill (Dragon Age)
Series: Spindleweed Tea [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990588
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Spindleweed Tea - Scrapped Scene

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who enjoyed Spindleweed Tea! I recetly went through my files again and found this small scrapped scene I didn't include in the main fic because I felt it broke the flow I was going for and found it to be a bit OOC but after rereading it I decided I still liked it, so here it is! Please enjoy <3

The fade isn’t a place he’s eager to visit again anytime soon.

The Pride demon’s words stick on him like hot metal on skin, the temptation too hard to resist. All he remembers is drawing his sword, his mind set on a path of no return, the look on Hawke’s face before he tried to strike her down, and then darkness.

He wakes with a start to the sound of his own ragged breath, darkness is still surrounding him but as he focuses his eyes on the outlines of the room around him he realizes it’s due to the late hour of the day. The bed creeks as he sits up on it, he’s shivering cold and the top of his head feels like it’s on fire. He tries steadying his breath, closing his eyes and focusing on the slow in and out of it. He can hear a muffled conversation from the other room, one of the voices sounds like Hawke.

The door to the room opens gently, carrying the warm orange light of a candle to his closed eyelids.

“Oh, you’re awake!” He hears the witch say quietly, followed by the sound of the door closing behind her.

When he opens his eyes again she’s sitting at the bed’s side holding a steaming clay mug in her hands and the candle is now propped on a nearby table. 

“Is Hawke…alright?” He asks, mouth feeling heavy and thick.

“She is safe and sound, don’t you worry. She’s talking with Keeper Marethari and the boys’ mother now. Trips to the fade can be exhausting. Here, this should help.” She offers him the mug, “Don’t worry it’s not poison. Just spindleweed tea, it will help with your headache. Your head must feel like it’s on fire right now.”

He eyes her then the mug, taking it and giving it a tentative sip. The taste is strong and earthy but not bad.

The muffled conversation from the other room dims down, Fenris can only make out the noises at intervals now. The quiet is broken by the witch’s voice, “I’m glad Feynriel is safe. Becoming a tranquil is such a horrible fate.”

“What will become of him then?”

“He’s going to Tevinter.”

Fenris scoffs “We’ll see how that one will turn out.”

“I’m not really fond of that country either. But hopefully he will be alright.” the mage says, worrying at the hem of her tunic.

The warmth of the mug spreads through his arms, up to his head, replacing the scorching hotness the fade had left him with. He takes a long sip. 

He finishes his tea, giving the mug back to her “I suppose thanks are in order.” he says “My head feels much better.”

“Oh, you’re welcome!” she chippers “Spindleweed tea is good for so many things! I like to have it every once in a while. We Dalish have perfected its use throughout the ages, you know.”

He rubs at his eyes. The danger the Pride demon posed is still heavy on him, a bad dream he can’t shake off. He still can’t wrap his mind around how easy it had been for him to be swayed, to betray Hawke so quickly of all people. How she cried his name as his sword skirted around her heart. He supposes the guilt won’t be so easily washed away with some herbal tea.

“I still can’t believe Keeper Marethari decided to help an elf blooded human but not me.” she mumbles, tapping the mug lightly. She still hasn’t left, her words suggest she’s not too keen on being back in the same room as her Keeper.

“If you’re looking for sympathy you won’t find it here. She has every reason to desert you.”

“But I'm her kin, her First!”

“You also made a pact with a demon.”

“That makes two of us, then.” she snaps, then looks down, something in her expression speaks of regret, “I’m sorry. That was unfair. You didn’t seek it out.” she sighs quietly, her shoulders squared, “I’m not expecting you to understand me, but I mean no harm to anyone. I know what I’m doing. Why I’m doing it.” 

“I’m not sure you do.” Fenris says ”You seem like an intelligent woman, yet you dabble in things that only madmen resort to. Typical of mages. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“What would you do,” she swallows, “if you had to watch your people live to be considered inferior, when you knew they were once prospering?”

He laughs, can’t believe she is asking  _ him _ the question “I don’t have to imagine it. I’ve  _ lived _ it.”

“Then you would understand better than anyone! You would care about our plight!”

“I don’t think blood magic is worth your so-called 'plight'.”

“Then what is? What is worth the price of what we’ve suffered?” He takes a breath to answer but she continues, voice breaking, “You think elves have it better outside of Tevinter, but we barely do. City elves are handled horribly by humans every day. The Dalish are forced to wander without a home, chased away and hunted down everywhere we go. There is no other way for us to live. There is no freedom in that.”

The voices from the other room have stopped a while ago. The candle on the table flickers just at the corner of his eye.

“I know you’ve been wronged by magic, Fenris.” Her hands are shaking, her eyes fixed on the ground, “I’m very sorry you were. But please, don’t judge me for trying.” She takes a deep, shaky breath and grips her hands firmly around the mug. “Give the tea a few hours and you should be back to normal.” The Dalish says, getting up “I’m not a healer but I know a thing or two about close encounters with demons, I suppose.”

“Wouldn't have guessed.” He says, noticing his voice is quiet. It surprisingly earns him a soft if not nervous chuckle before she exits her room, leaving the door open for him.


End file.
